


Civilised Conversation

by SeaWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Swearing, booze, well before the final books and associated carnage, written a very long time ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaWitch/pseuds/SeaWitch
Summary: Remus and Severus, and civilised conversation[In answer to snarkyroxy's Verse Two, Line One challenge ... lyrics follow at the end of the story.]





	

_Am I all alone in the universe?_  Remus laughed self-deprecatingly at the turn of his thoughts as he made his way through Hogsmeade, returning to the school that had been his sanctuary. Three years after Voldemort’s demise, and one simply worded proclamation later, he was finally allowed to be a teacher again. Not that the prejudice was gone, it would take generations for the fear and hatred to be displaced.  _There's no love in these streets_ , he thought wearily, glimpsing an anxious frown on the face of a passer-by,  _not for my kind. Not yet._  At least he would be assured of a warm welcome at Hogwarts.   
  
Albus was still Headmaster, Minerva was still Head of Gryffindor; it was very much like coming home to a set of doting parents. Albus called him his “dear boy”, while Minerva continued to cosset him, and worry over his health. And if they were his parents, a younger sister waited there for him as well: Hermione had assumed Vector’s role as Arithmancy professor, while the older witch was on a year-long sabbatical.  
  
And then there was Severus. Angular, prickly, self-sufficient Severus, the sarcastic rake who had held his heart for more years than he liked to think about. Remus remembered their last conversation with crystal clarity.  
  


**********

  
  
Remus clutched the bottle of scotch in one hand while he rested his forehead against the door to Severus’ chambers. Celebrations for the first anniversary of Voldemort’s downfall were in full swing in the Great Hall, but Remus was not in the mood for music, or the exuberance of youth set free from the darkness that had swallowed so many lives. Harry, Hermione and the others could dance and drink and laugh under the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore, but he could not. The pain and loss was still too raw, and Remus no longer had the emotional resilience of the young. He suspected Severus felt the same way.  
  
Which is why he was standing here like a fool in the dankness of the dungeons, working up the courage to knock on the door.  _Just a couple of old soldiers having a drink_ , he said to himself firmly,  _nothing more_. A derisive smile quirked his lips. The same old pain still stood between himself and Severus, despite eight years of Remus’ most determined efforts to dispel it. All he had to show for his pains was a rather annoying hex scar on his left knee that ached when it rained, and the grudging acknowledgement from the Potions Master that he, Remus, was an adequate conversationalist when no-one else was about.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he raised his hand to knock, only to have the door thrown open, the object of his thoughts sneering at him in annoyance.  
  
“Come in if you must, Lupin. I won’t have you lurking about outside my door scratching to be let in like some pathetic stray.”  
  
Remus rolled his eyes, and sidled through the doorway. Snape shut the door firmly and re-invoked the wards that had obviously announced his presence. He stood still, admiring the view as Snape stalked ahead of him. The voluminous robes had been abandoned for a simple pair of black trousers, and a black shirt that seemed as though it were made of silk.  _Stop it_ , Remus chastised himself,  _down boy, that is_  not  _for you_.  
  
“Etiquette would dictate that one knocks on a door rather than lounging against it.” Snape dropped with boneless grace into an armchair beside the fire, and glared at Remus malevolently. “To what do I owe this dubious pleasure, Lupin?   
  
“I thought we could have a drink, Severus,” Remus said mildly, gesturing with the bottle. “You weren’t at the festivities, and I thought you may enjoy the company.”  
  
“You mean you thought  _you_  might enjoy the company,” was the tart rejoinder. “And I would not drink that swill if you offered me one hundred galleons.”  
  
_Splendid idea, Remus_ , snarled his inner voice,  _this is going just swimmingly_.  
  
“Do you have something better?” Remus tried his most winsome smile.  
  
“You’ll not leave until you’ve had a drink, will you?”  
  
“It is why I came down here, after all.”  
  
Severus stared at him with a mixture of suspicion and resignation. “I very much doubt that that is all you are here for, Lupin. Sit down, and do try not to spill anything this time.”  
  
“It was only tea,” he protested quietly as he set down the bottle and sprawled across the settee,  _not at all provocative_ , muttered his inner voice.  _You know he hates it when you do that_. Remus growled aloud at his uncooperative inner self, and was promptly startled into a yelp of pain as his head snapped forward. Rubbing the back of his skull ruefully, he looked up at Snape.  
  
“Be grateful I used my hand and not my wand this time.” Snape passed him a tumbler of Firewhisky, a very fine blend by the heady scent, and resumed his seat, a wicked smirk on his face. “Bestial noises have no place in civilised conversation, Lupin.”  
  
And there it was. The forcible reminder that he was not human and he never would be in Severus’ eyes.  
  
“If that night hadn’t happened,” Remus stared down into his glass of Firewhisky, fingers unconsciously twirling the amber liquid, “could we have gotten past simple smiles and small talk?”  
  
“I doubt it. You conveniently forget that I was a Slytherin and you were nestled in the centre of a pack of Gryffindors.” Snape swallowed half the whiskey in his own glass. “Must you dredge up the past every time you appear on my doorstep?”  
  
“I wouldn’t need to dredge it up, as you so delicately put it, if you’d just forgive me!” Remus downed his whiskey, and coughed as it burned down his throat.  _So much for subtlety_.  
  
“Forgive you?” the short, sharp bark of laughter shocked Remus. “Forgive you? Do you really think I would tolerate you in my chambers if I still abhorred you?”  
  
“You don’t …” Remus paused, throat constricted with sudden emotion. “You don’t hate me then?”  
  
“Really, Lupin, I sometimes wonder that you weren't sorted into Hufflepuff.”  
  
The rest of the evening was a pleasant blur – too much strong drink, and the sheer relief of knowing Severus no longer hated him was intoxicating. The last thing he remembered was Severus covering him with a blanket as he babbled about his plans to travel.  
  
“I’m going to France,” he said peering up at Snape’s hawkish profile. “Going to see Notre Dame.”  
  
“Yes, yes. So you’ve told me three times.” The next was added in a voice so soft, it was almost inaudible. “And will you return?”  
  
“I promise I might not walk on by, maybe next time, but not this time," Remus said sleepily, knowing he didn’t make any sense, but being too drunk to care.  
  
“Fool of a Gryffindor.”  
  


**********

  
  
That evening had taught Remus to hope, even if it were a foolish one. He dropped his battered case by his feet, and looked around the Entrance Hall, feeling as though he had come home at last. He smiled brightly as Hermione flew down the stairs and launched herself into his arms.  
  
“Oh, it’s so good to see you Remus,” she laughed as he whirled her around.   
  
“Likewise,” Remus set the young witch on her feet as he caught a glimpse of black hair and a scowling pale face disappearing down the stairs that led to the dungeons.  
  
“Severus is in fine form,” Hermione said with a sniff of disapproval as she followed Remus’ gaze. “And when I say fine form, I mean most typical, don’t you know.”  
  
“I should go and say hello,” he said, as he gently disentangled himself from her embrace.   
  
“Do. I’ll take your case up to your rooms.”  
  
Remus descended into Slytherin territory with a sense of trepidation. Severus had not, even by his own standards, seemed pleased to see him.   
  
Pausing outside Snape’s door, Remus was struck by the familiarity of the scene, his lips curving in a small smile. This time, instead of leaning against the door, he raised his hand and rapped gently against the aged wood.  
  
The door was flung open. “Scratching at the door again, Lupin?” Snape’s features were twisted with anger, a touch of hectic colour in his sallow cheeks.  
  
“I’m back,” Remus responded mildly. Agitation was rolling off the Potions Master in waves, as was the sharp tang of Firewhisky.  
  
“That much is patently obvious.”  
  
“May I come in?”  
  
“Do as you will,” Snape snarled, “it is not as though I have any choice in the matter.” He stalked away, leaving Remus to enter the room and close the door behind him.   
  
“No choice?” Remus was both disturbed and disappointed.  _This was not going at all to plan_. Ever since Albus had offered him the Defence professorship for the second time, all he had been able to think about was Severus. About that last conversation, about the look in Severus’ eyes as he had wrapped the blanket around him. “There’s always a choice. You always have a choice, Severus.”   
  
Snape laughed bitterly. “With you I don’t.”  
  
“What do you mean?” The words made Remus’ chest ache.  _Oh nice_ , said the sarcastic part of his mind,  _you’ve gone and backed him into a corner_. Remus ground his teeth,  _oh fuck off and die, this is too important_ , he thought to the treacherous little voice in his mind. “Severus?”  
  
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand me, Lupin,” Snape gestured irritably, his wards falling back into place. “Albus has already been to see me about not breaking his precious Gryffindor’s heart.”  
  
“My heart is not easily broken, Severus. I can’t imagine why Albus would …”  
  
“Imbecile,” the single word was spoken with a sneer that would have made a seventh-year weep. “Who do you think taught me to be an Occlumens? I have never been able to withstand him.”  
  
Remus was stunned into silence. Albus was pressuring Severus? Legilimising him?  
  
“Speechless, Lupin?” Snape snarled at him, propelling Remus across the room to clutch the back of one of the armchairs. “How very unusual.”  
  
“What do  _you_  want Severus?”  
  
“It does not matter what  _I_  want, Lupin. It has not mattered for a very long time.”  
  
“What you want matters to me, Severus,” Remus studied the man before him intently. He had never seen Severus so agitated before, not without him screaming abuse at all and sundry. “I’ll talk to Albus. Make him leave you alone. The war is over, you should be free to make your own choices…”  
  
“My own choices,” the same strange, bitter laugh echoed through the stone room. “My own choices? I cannot choose. My heart, damn foolish excuse for a thing that it is, has made its choice, whether I will it or not.” Severus glared at him, dark eyes glittering. “My heart has chosen,  _I_  have  _not_!”  
  
“Don’t you understand, Lupin? Every whisper of every waking hour I'm choosing my confessions. Choosing what truths I should reveal, which to conceal. Which will frighten you away.” The words were impassioned, his black eyes glittering with an intense light.  
  
“You must …” Severus turned away, back stiff and unbending as he folded his arms defensively across his chest.  
  
“What?” Remus clutched the back of the armchair, fingers threatening to rend the worn fabric as his heart raced frantically. Had Severus just admitted to being afraid of losing him?  _Him_?   
  
“It must…” Severus paused again, irritation plain in his voice. “Must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm.”  
  
Remus’ breath caught in his throat.  _Oh yes_ , he thought, his avid imagination picturing pale flesh writhing beneath him as he touched and tasted, and bit and stroked and claimed.  _Oh yes, strangely exciting indeed_.  
  
“Severus, I know what you are and what you’ve done. I’m not above a touch of espionage myself, when it comes to the people I … care about. I can be your colleague, your friend, your lover or your partner.” Remus made sure to keep his voice calm, though he was anything but. “But I will only be what  _you_  want me to be. It has to be  _your_  choice.” He ran his hand through his hair with a soft sigh. This was difficult, but it needed to be done. “I’ll leave you to think about it. You know where to find me when you’ve made your decision.”  
  
Remus turned, biting his lip to stop from saying anything further. He was halfway to the door when an iron grip snagged his right wrist.  
  
“Stay.” The word sounded like it was being dragged up from the depths of Severus’ soul. Remus froze, as the cool fingers tightened around him. He turned, watching the desperate struggle between the other man’s need for control flickering across his pale face. Much as he wanted to step forward and embrace Severus, he had to wait.   
  
“Stay.” This time, the word was accompanied by a gentle tug forward. Remus allowed himself to be drawn towards the other man until they were close enough that their robes brushed together. “Remus.” Severus said his name in a way Remus knew one was lucky enough to hear perhaps once in a lifetime, before pressing his lips lightly against Remus’ own.   
  
_He chose_ , babbled Remus’ inner self madly.  _He actually chose! What the hell are you waiting for? Kiss him! Kiss him before he thinks you’re rejecting him!_  Dark eyes were watching him warily, a tense set to his face. Remus smiled, he hoped in a reassuring manner, and pulled Severus into a deep, hungry kiss.   
  
A moment of hesitation, and Severus was kissing him back with equal fervour. Remus wrapped his arms around the taller man, sliding a hand up to tangle in his hair. Slowly he moved backwards until the backs of his knees hit the settee, and then he dropped down into it, taking a startled Severus with him. Sprawled beneath the other man, Remus nuzzled into the soft pale skin of Severus’ neck that peeked above his high collar, drinking in the scent of herbs, smoke and soap that clung to him. A possessive growl worked its way up through his chest, and he flinched, expecting either a hex or another slap.  
  
“Don’t be an idiot, Remus,” Severus’ voice had taken on a dark, velvety, purring tone. “We are not indulging in civilised conversation here, after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> And here are the lyrics provided by snarkyroxy as part of the challenge:
> 
> "Must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm." – Uninvited – Alanis Morrissette
> 
> "Every whisper of every waking hour I'm choosing my confessions." – Losing my Religion – REM
> 
> "Could we have gotten past simple smiles and small talk?" – The Fade Away – Suicide Machine
> 
> "I promise I might not walk on by, maybe next time, but not this time." – One Thing – Finger 11
> 
> "Am I all alone in the universe? There's no love in these streets." – The Lover after Me – Savage Garden
> 
> Thanks to snarky for being the beta, and others who have seen and commented on snippets.
> 
> First uploaded to OWL these long ages past, where I wrote under the name indigofeathers - so don't worry, not stealing another author's words, just playing in JKR's backyard and putting her characters through the wringer.


End file.
